


When E met R

by sonotadream



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, Exhibitionism, First Time, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:18:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1335184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonotadream/pseuds/sonotadream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some reason, Grantaire thinks faking an orgasm in the middle of the cafe is a good idea. Enjolras can't really disagree.</p><p>Written for the kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When E met R

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt can be found here: http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/14280.html?thread=13409480

When Enjolras entered the back room of the cafe, there was an animated discussion going on. Since Grantaire was one of the interveners, all he could gather was that it was not about politics.

“I tell you, I can tell,” screamed Bahorel.

“And I’m telling you, you can’t,” yelled Grantaire in return.

“Prove it, then.” One of the barmaids, Louise, was hanging around that table, along with some of the others. 

Her words made everyone stay silent for a moment, until Bossuet agreed. “Yes, prove it.”

The others quickly joined in, chanting, “Prove it, prove it,” until Grantaire agreed.

“Fine, fine, I’ll show you.” He took a long drag from his glass, in preparation for whatever he was going to do.

Enjolras approached Combeferre and Feuilly, who were sitting at another table with some pamphlets in front of them, but clearly amused by the proceedings.

“What’s the discussion about?”

“Fake orgasms.”

“Excuse me?”

Behind them, the argument had become about where Grantaire’s hands should be, for some reason.

“Well,” Combeferre started to explain, “Bahorel thinks you can’t fake one without it being obvious. Grantaire disagrees.”

“And now he’s going to make a demonstration,” Feuilly finished.

Enjolras frowned. “What kind of-”

And then Grantaire moaned.

Combeferre and Feuilly spared an amused glance at Enjolras’ wide-eyed, surprised face, but, like everyone else in the room, soon their full attention was directed towards Grantaire’s little spectacle.

Grantaire moaned, long and slow, mixing “Mmm” and “Oh” and “Oh, yes, there”. He rolled his eyes and kept his hands on the table to show he wasn’t cheating.

Enjolras had to sit down. Grantaire always brought up all kinds of conflicting feelings, but never anything as confusing as Enjolras’ current physical reaction.

There was no doubt Grantaire knew what he was doing. Or imitating.

Enjolras didn't have any firsthand knowledge, but Grantaire's delightfully obscene sounds and the contorted expressions of pleasure in his face were striking Enjolras with a vivid picture of how Grantaire would look like spread out in his bed, naked and panting, waiting for...

Enjolras had to grip the edges of the table to avoid the temptation of touching himself. Everyone was too busy watching Grantaire to notice him, but Enjolras felt that one look at him and his red face and it would be obvious what was going on.

Grantaire was reaching a crescendo for the finale, the moans coming quickly now, his head throw back in fake ecstasy.

He finished with a wordless shout and promptly fell backwards, drawing consternation from the presents, and a round of laughter and applause when he declared to be fine.

Enjolras had a few short moments to take a deep breath and try to compose himself before Combeferre turned to him.

"Enjolras, are you all right? You're awfully red."

"I'm perfectly fine." Enjolras could only imagine what the other two were thinking. Hopefully, that he was mad, not aroused.

He tried to focus in the pamphlets, published by a worker's group familiar to Feuilly, but it was a lost cause. He could hear Grantaire's laughter from across the room.

Why did he have to laugh so loud? And why was it so distracting?

Combeferre advised him to go to bed before taking his leave. The others were also starting to go, mostly following Louise to the front room. Enjolras had the vague impression the whole thing had been a ploy to gain her attention. It didn't make the thing less stupid, but, since, at the moment he was desperately wishing he was alone so he could have a wank in peace, Enjolras couldn't really judge.

Feuilly was about to go when Grantaire noticed them. "Feuilly! And how did you find the show?"

Feuilly laughed. "Impressive. And just how drunk are you?"

"Believe it or not, not very much."

He didn't sound drunk, Enjolras had to give him that. Not that the information did anything to ease his discomfort.

"And what about you, Enjolras?" Grantaire's address startled him. Enjolras didn't even want to know what colour his face had turned to. "That bad, uh?"

"What did you expect?" Feuilly clapped Grantaire's shoulder, with that, he was gone, and Enjolras and Grantaire were alone.

Impervious to Enjolras' turmoil, Grantaire took the chair closest to him and immediately began to tease him.

"Don't tell me you are really that much of a virgin. Or is it righteous anger? That suits you much more."

"Grantaire, will you please stop." Enjolras punched the table, making some pamphlets fly away, while Grantaire remained unaffected by his outburst.

"Let me get those for you," he said, and got under the table before Enjolras could stop him.

Grantaire's eyes widened in surprised when confronted with Enjolras’ state, but that expression was quickly replaced by a smug grin. "Oh, maybe you're not such a virgin after all."

"Grantaire, don't..." Enjolras trailed off, unsure of what to say. He tried to get away, but Grantaire prevented that by putting his hands on his knees.

"Wait. I could help you with that, if you wanted." As he spoke, Grantaire' hands wandered up. His tone was different too, less teasing, more shy.

Still, it wasn't until he rested his head in Enjolras' knee that it dawned on him what Grantaire was getting at.

"No," Enjolras shook his head, "I don't want that." Enjolras didn't know what he wanted. His feelings in regards to Grantaire had never been this confused.

However, the sight of Grantaire's sloped shoulders spurred him to make a rash decision. He pulled the other man up by his shirt lapels and kissed him.

It wasn't a refined a kiss, but there was plenty of enthusiasm behind it. Grantaire didn't protest, in spite of Enjolras' lack of experience; he simply pulled him closer by the waist until Enjolras tumbled out of the chair.

He ended up straddling Grantaire. He looked down at him, slightly out of breath, not knowing what to say.

Grantaire spoke first, "What do you want, then?"

What did he want? That was a fairly complicated question, with many possible ramifications. He decided to keep things simple.

"Right now, I want to know what you sound like when you’re not performing.”

Enjolras wasted no time in getting Grantaire’s pants open, action quickly returned by Grantaire. Enjolras sighed when his cock sprung free and Grantaire wrapped his hand around it. 

Enjolras pressed down against Grantaire, his movements frantic and erratic, relying more in instinct than any factual knowledge.

Grantaire was surprisingly quiet, at least compared to earlier. Enjolras, not so much. He had never felt like this; Grantaire moving under him was better than anything he could have imagined.

He leaned forwards, until his face was close to Grantaire's, their breaths almost mingling. Grantaire half moaned, half whispered his name and that sent Enjolras over the edge.

He collapsed to the floor, next to Grantaire, and admired his profile as he helped him finish: furrowed brow, gasping mouth, head arched back in pleasure.

Enjolras didn't know how long they lied on the floor, catching their breaths. The moment didn't bring any clarity of thought or sudden insights, though perhaps Enjolras' feelings weren't as muddled as before.

He watched Grantaire rearrange his clothes, using his shirt to clean himself.

"Sorry about your shirt," blurted out Enjolras. It was an inconsequential thing to say, and Grantaire waved him off.

"It's fine. I'm sorry about, you know, everything." Grantaire waved his hands in a vague gesture that didn’t clear anything up.

Grantaire made to get up, but Enjolras grabbed his arm before he could leave.

"Are you really?" Enjolras hadn't expected that. Not that he ever knew what to expect from Grantaire.

Grantaire shrugged. "Not yet."

Enjolras had to hurry up to catch him. "Grantaire, wait!" He grabbed his arm again, forcing Grantaire to turn and face him. "What do you mean, not yet?"

Grantaire choose to look anywhere but him while answering. "Isn't it obvious? Don't..." He took a deep breath and continued, his voice an inexpressive monotone, "Very soon, if not already, you're going to look back on this and become filled with regret, and wished I was gone."

"No!" Enjolras lifted Grantaire's chin, so he could look him in the eye and repeat, "No. Even I start to regret anything, I would never wish you gone." Grantaire snorted. 

"You don't believe me?" Enjolras asked.

That made Grantaire take pause. If there was one thing Enjolras was sure about Grantaire, was that the self-professed cynic always believed in him.

Enjolras lifted Grantaire's face again and kissed his cheek, whispering, "Be easy," in his ear.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on tumblr, if you want to say hi: http://sonotadream.tumblr.com


End file.
